Sandstorm
by Poshdan-chan
Summary: Three years have passed since the end of the wars and the separation of the pilots. Now their team is required once more, but one of the pilots may be damaged beyond repair. AT, Eventual Yaoi, Some Blood, Mild Angst, Unavoidable OOCness


Sandstorm  
  
  
1: Silence of the Setting Sun  
  
There are two points of view, and the change is indicated by *****  
Changes in scenes are indicated by *  
Warnings: Mild Angst, Mild Language, OOC-ness, Eventual Shounen-Ai, Alternate Timeline  
  
  
I stand in the shadows beside the window, idly watching sunlight stream through the broken glass to make the dusty air shimmer where it falls. I can barely feel the cool wash of air across me from the mild breeze that carries through this place. There is the distant sound of feet moving across old wood, a shuffle accompanied by creaks of protest at the weight, then a silhouette appears in the doorway at the end of the room I am in. There is a long pause as the new arrival studies me before it is joined by a second shape. A word is whispered from one to the other, too soft for me to hear, and the first person vanishes again into darkness. I do not move but continue to gaze through the weak beams of sunlight to the person past it. One hand rests idly on my hip; the other is hidden comfortably in my jacket pocket, my fingers curled around my gun.  
  
"Well now." The words are soft, with almost a wistful edge, and something about the voice is definitely familiar. I feel my spine relax slightly and I release my gun. "Never thought I'd see you again."  
  
I've found him. I acknowledge his welcome with a slight nod and he shifts, moving towards me through the darkness. "This is not where I expected to find you," I tell him, both a prod for more information and a greeting. I cast a meaningful glance around, taking in the poor state of the room. The wood is rotten and splintered and smells of decay and dust. The floor is broken in several places and is covered with small moss from where rain leaked in from the ceiling. A peeling sign outside had announced this to have been a war shelter during earlier years. Those battles and erosion with time have broken it down to little more than a half-collapsed shed. "I was figuring on something more extravagant from you."  
  
He laughs softly. It is a tired and hollow sound, and my lips twitch briefly into a frown. He had never sounded like that, not even at the worst of times. "You have too much time on your hands if you came looking for me."  
  
"You're the last one."  
  
He cocks his head at that, stopping far enough away that none of the light falls on him. "Eh?" I can better make out his features now, enough to see his puzzled frown. There is something distinctly different about him. I can sense it, but exactly what it is evades me for the moment. His eyes seem to have narrowed slightly, and I can feel a shift in the air as he tenses. "Planning on having a party or something?" he asks, an attempt at wit. His try falls pathetically short, as his tone is laced with caution. His hand moves and he reaches up to brush his bangs out of his face, and his gaze is intense as he studies me.  
  
"Iie." I pause a moment. "We've been contacted."  
  
"By?" he asks shaprly. He already knows the answer; I know he does. I give it to him, anyway.  
  
"J."  
  
He whispers something that I do not catch and turns, rapidly disappearing towards the doorway. He melts from gray outlines to a shadow, then blends in with the dark end of the hall. I follow, determined. I had been expecting him to be a bit more receiving to the news. After all, hadn't he been the one who always bounced back? It had been Quatre that both Heero and I had hesitated over, not..."Duo, stop," I call after him as I pass through the doorway into a hall. There are three doors that I scan quickly, debating which one to try first, but his voice floats back to me before I can decide.  
  
"I'm through with them, Wufei."  
  
I duck through the door his voice came from. This room has been made into a makeshift kitchen. An oil lamp sits in the middle of the table, casting a dim glow through the room. There are two other people in here, two young kids, who are quick to leave upon my entrance. They duck through a hole in the back of the room. My eyes follow them briefly before bouncing back to Duo. He is digging through a cabinet with quick, angry movements. Suddenly he jumps back, dropping a plate to shatter on the ground. "Shit," he hisses, and stoops hurriedly to scoop up the pieces. His fingers are nimble as he plucks up the shards, avoiding nicks. "Crawlers," he says in disgust, and I can see an assortment of bugs fleeing the mess. "Damn things are everywhere."  
  
I wisely choose to let him finish his work before speaking again. I use the time to take in his appearance, starting from the feet up. The shoes he is wearing are little more than tattered sandals with several holes. He is dressed in a pair of pants that are much too big and a shirt that is too small. The clothes are torn and dusty, and his arms are covered with cuts in various healing stages.  
  
My eyes stop at his neck, and I take a small step back in surprise. "Duo…"  
  
"What?" he asks, shooting me a glance.  
  
"Your hair."  
  
He winces but stands and turns, shorn locks whipping across his chin and neck with the movement. His dark purple eyes lock with mine for only a brief instant before he moves to deposit his armful of pottery in a corner that seems to be reserved for trash. "I sold it," he answers, giving a nonchalant shrug. "We needed medicine."  
  
The lack of Duo's braid hits me deeper than anything else about him. Something has happened in the past three years, something drastic. The Duo Maxwell I knew and worked with during the long wards in 195 and 196 has been replaced by someone else. My thoughts fly briefly to the porch of the shelter. I had been standing there just seven minutes ago, gazing at the weather beaten door and wondering what I would find on the other side. Now I feel a sudden, foolish desire to still be there instead of here, faced with this new Duo. I shove the thoughts away with an impatient mental smack, crossing my airs over my chest. My ex-teammate checks the cabinet for more insects before lifting down four plates that are chipped and do not match. He goes from there to a small box, where he pulls out a few green bags. I recognize them; I have seen them often. They are war rations, used to help those who are suffering during times of conflict.  
  
He rips them open easily and deposits the contents onto the plates, then tilts his head towards the hole. "Time to eat!" he calls.  
  
After a pause, three children scramble through the hole. They each take a plate and seat themselves by the table, eating with a ravenous hunger. One takes two plates and disappears back through the hole. Duo watches the remaining two for a moment before turning to look at me. He lifts one hand in a beckon and leaves the room. I look the ragtag group of children over once more before following, taking in their gaunt faces and messy appearance.  
  
"How are they?" Duo asks as I join them in another room. He is standing by a window that has boards nailed over most of it, gazing through the cracks to the ruins of the city beyond with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. I approach him, stopping an arm's length away. "Are they well?"  
  
I give a slight nod although he is not looking at me. "They are healthy and fit."  
  
"And you?" He turns his head enough to peer at me through his bangs.  
  
I lift one shoulder in a shrug. "More or less, I am the same as I have always been."  
  
A wisp of a sad smile ghosts about his lips before fading quickly. "That is good to hear," he tells me, and I can hear the sincerity in his voice. "I wondered about the group often. I was hoping you were all doing fine." He looks back out the window.  
  
It is clear that he is not going to say anything else until I speak. I allow him a few moments of silence before explaining the reason behind my visit. "There is talk of a new terrorist chain in the making," I say, and I see his shoulders sag slightly as he sighs. "There are several spots in the colonies and on Earth that have not quite recovered from the earlier wars. Some places are practically unliveable and remain abandoned. They would be easy prey for trained soldiers to dominate, and would make useful bases."  
  
"Places like this one," is Duo's response.  
  
There is silence again. I search for words, belatedly asking myself why Heero sent me for Duo instead of sending Quatre. I am a well learned man and an eloquent enough speaker, but I am not a people person. I do not have the talent to socialize and sympthasize with others. Since the wars ended three years ago I have gotten better, but I am not sure what exactly to do in this type of situation where Duo has altered so dramatically.  
  
Duo speaks again before I can find words. "What did he want?" he asks, tone clipped and short.  
  
I know he is referring to Dr. J. "He wants us as field agents. He believes we are capable enough to take out the chain before it grows into something large enough to be a serious problem."  
  
"I see."  
  
I slide my hands into my pockets. "Are you in or are you out?" I ask. That is all there is to it. I have contacted Duo and presented him with the problem. It is up to him to follow or stay. Before arriving I was sure I knew the answer. Now I am not so positive.  
  
He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. "I have kids to look after," is his answer.  
  
A feeling akin to disappointment sits heavily in my heart. I frown as he turns to face me. "That is what you have to say to this?" I ask. He does not answer. "With the risk of war approaching you would rather stay here."  
  
"I have kids," he repeats flatly, "to look after. They have no one else. Without me here, they will die."  
  
"Send them somewhere else."  
  
He utters a bark of laughter that is bitter. "Don't you think I've tried that, Wufei? Would I have chosen to sit out in the middle of this ghost city if I had another choice?" His words are acid. "No. No one else will take them; no one wants anything to do with them. The only help we get is a few food rations that I have to pick up from the church in Lambox every week. They have been condemned here, and I have chosen to stay here as well to take care of them."  
  
Their faces flicker in my mind as I gaze at Duo in surprise. Condemned? He speaks again, scattering my thoughts. I tuck them away to mull over later. "You asked, I answered. You four are top soldiers. I wish you luck in your missions and I hope you succeed. Good day." With that, he brushes past me, striding towards the door.  
  
I turn to watch him go, wanting to say something else, but I do not know what to say. Before I can think of something, he is gone. I am left alone in the musty room, staring at the empty doorway. Confusion circles my mind, along with a feeling of dissatisfaction. This is not what I thought would happen. There has to be something that can be done or said, and yet…  
  
I leave the room, moving slowly towards the exit. There is nothing. Duo has made up his mind. My shuttle off of L2 leaves in three hours. The second ticket Quatre purchased for Duo will have to go unused.  
  
I want to be angry at Duo for turning his back on us, even if it is a foolish anger. It has been three years since any of us have seen each other. Quatre has been so happy since our arrival on L4. He was looking forward to seeing Duo, but now he will be disappointed. And yet, how can I be angry at Duo? I believe I would have chosen the same thing he has if presented with such a thing. He has decided to live in the center of a ruined city, with the closest human habitation several miles away.  
  
Condemned children? Why? Why would anyone condemn children to such a life?  
  
I pause outside, beside my motorcycle, and glance back at the shelter. Duo said he has to travel to Lambox every week. That is a long walk. I look back at my rented bike, then pull the keys from my pocket. I can extend the rental and pay for the bill somehow. I hang the ring on the handle for the brake and stuff my hands in my pockets, heading east. Yes…It will be a long walk.  
  
*****  
  
I watch him go from another window. He has not changed much at all since the last time I saw him. He has an older, more refined look to his asian features now, and has grown a bit. My eyes stray from him to the motorcycle he left behind. Part of me wants to berate him for leaving it, but the other part is warm with gratitude. I feel a faint smile tugging at my lips at the gift. I know he is disappointed in my response, but he understands. At least, he thinks he does. That is why he is leaving now, and that is why he has given me a ride. With that, it will not take as long to retrieve food. I will not have to leave my charges for so long.  
  
I want to call him back, but that would not do any good. I will not change my decision; I will stay here. It is selfish of me, but I want him to stay here with me. I do not want to face this alone. I draw back from the window, pulling from the sunlight back into the shadows. How I hate the shadows. They are cold against my skin. I can feel their icy fingers seeping through me, curling against my heart and ribs. It is for safety only that I chose to leave the shutters where they are instead of breaking them down to let in sunlight. We have only one lamp, and we have to use it sparingly. The citizens of Lambox are not eager to part with fuel for it, especially to someone like me. I have had to steal some recently.  
  
Aja is watching me when I turn away from the window. She watches me with dark eyes, hands hanging limply at her sides. She is the most agile of the group now. The others are starting to suffer from their illness. Little Farrow is unable to walk and has been reduced to skin and bones. I feel my heart jerk with grief over thoughts of him.  
  
"Is he gone?" Aja asks.  
  
"Aa," I answer, managing a smile for her.  
  
"Who was he?" She takes a step back and to the side as she speaks, resting against the wall nearest her. "Is he from Lambox? Is he an agent?"  
  
"No," I reassure her, moving towards her. I ruffle her hair affectionately. "He is an old friend. He was just wondering where I was."  
  
"Oh."  
  
I sense that she wants to say more, but she remains silent. I do not press her. Instead, I bring her with me back into the hallway. "Have you finished your meal?" I want to know, and she nods. "Why don't you take Eaton and Jean out for some sun? I'm sure Jean is sick of being cooped inside."  
  
She nods and obediently heads away. I take a deep breath and move towards the kitchen to pick up the lamp. My next stop is the room I share with Farrow. When his infection started on the later stages I moved him to where I could keep a better eye on him. He turns his head to gaze at me when I enter the room, and he smiles. His chapped lips crack at the movement and a drop of blood appears on his mouth. I crouch beside the bed, setting the lamp to one side. His plate is here; Aja delivered it to him.  
  
"How are you doing?" I ask, trying not to look at the way his skin has shrunk on his frame. I can make out the bones in his hands. His hands are now completely black, and so are his feet. I swallow, but it is hard to do so. I manage a cheery tone somehow. "How was lunch?"  
  
He coughs, a wet sound, and I can see his shoulders move in a faint shrug. "It was fine."  
  
"You didn't eat much," I observe, glancing the mostly full plate over.  
  
"I'm not hungry."  
  
I feel sick. "Maybe later, ne? We'll leave it here in case you decide you're hungry later." He accepts this and falls silent for a few minutes. The only sound in the room is the sound of my breathing; his is too soft to hear. My thoughts drift towards Wufei again as my eyes trace Farrow's form. His shirt falls awkwardly on him because his ribs are protruding from his skin. My heart feels heavy within my chest with the pain of hopelessness and helplessness.  
  
Do you think I really want to be here, Wufei? I care so much about these children, but it tears me through my heart to see them like this. We started with seven. Three have already passed away. Farrow will be next, and then the others. Even Aja has the telltale sign of sickness: her fingertips are black.  
  
I don't want them to die.  
  
I don't want to see them die.  
  
I don't want them to die alone.  
  
I can do nothing for these children except be here. I can sing them to sleep, I can soothe them after nightmares, I can fetch their food and establish some order here. I can sit beside their beds, I can hold their hands when they are in agony. I can make them smile and laugh and forget their pain for a few precious moments. But I cannot heal them. I cannot promise them a way out. They have seen each other die. They have been thrown from their homes. They know what is coming. They can cling to me when they are afraid, but I cannot give them the one thing I want most: life.  
  
I exhale shakily, eyes straying back to Farrow's face. He is asleep. Towards the end, he will sleep a lot. That is some small mercy; he will sleep away most of the pain.  
  
I want to cry. I can feel the tears burning my eyes, but I force them away. I cannot cry. Boys are not supposed to cry. Boys are supposed to be strong. I do not feel strong anymore. I felt strong three years ago, shielded within the shiny black chambers of Shinigami. I felt invincible then. I had four teammates and the cockiness that comes from being a good Gundam pilot. I destroyed those that threatened the future of the colonies and Earth. I saved cities, countries, millions of innocents.  
  
Now all I want is for someone else to save me.  
  
*****  
  
I am so far away from him now, but still the sound of his laughter rings loudly in my ears. I gaze out of the shuttle window as we land, but my mind is miles away. I can still see Duo shifting in the shadows, avoiding the sunlight streaming through the window. I can see his short hair falling close to his head. I can see the dirty faces of three children that look drawn in on themselves, children with no real home and no future.  
  
I grab my bag and move with the other passengers out of the shuttle. My eye lands on Quatre, who stands out from the crowd with his pink sweater and blond hair. He waves when he sees me, face lighting up with a smile. I give a quiet sigh and lift my hand in return, making my way through the throng of people towards him. I pause a short distance away, studying him. The changes in him are subtle. He has lost most of his boyish looks, but there is still something about him that proclaims eternal innocence and youth. His blue eyes are kind and his smile warm as he steps towards me. He is a little taller than I am, now. It is odd.  
  
"Welcome back, Wufei," he greets.  
  
I offer him a faint smile in return. It is hard not to smile when faced with Quatre. His eyes slide past me briefly in a search for Duo. "Quatre," I say, calling his attention back to me. He looks back, curious.  
  
"Where's Duo?" he asks.  
  
"He isn't coming."  
  
He blinks in surprise, disbelief flickering across his eyes. "Not coming?"  
  
"He cannot." I motion for him to follow. He matches my stride easily as we set off in the general direction of the exit. As we walk I tell him about my visit with Duo. I watch his face as I speak to see his reaction. By the time I am finished, he looks dismayed.  
  
"That is horrible," he utters softly. "Why would a city condemn its children?"  
  
I lift one shoulder in a shrug and adjust my bag's strap so it settles more comfortably. "He is unable to come to us, and there is no way we could bring the children to safety elsewhere. We do not know yet why they are condemned. We can, however, bring aid to Duo. I am sure he would appreciate any help at all, such as blankets and food."  
  
Quatre nods. "Of course. If you will make a list of everything you think they need, I will see to it that it is taken care of." He slides his hands in his pockets and gives a quiet sigh. "Oh, Duo…" he whispers.  
  
I say nothing. There is silence between us during the trip back to his mansion. I know Quatre is thinking Duo's situation over. He does not need any words from me to distract him.  
  
The other two are working when we arrive. Heero has slung his leather jacket over the back of a chair and is typing away at a notebook computer. Commands flicker across the screen as he expertly weaves his way through the system. Trowa is standing to his left, going through a pile of printouts. There is a mug of steaming coffee in one hand, and he sips from it absently as he reads. He is the first to notice our entrance and he looks up from his stack.  
  
"And Duo?" he asks, instantly noticing that we are a member short.  
  
Heero pauses and half turns in his chair, flicking his bangs out of his face with long fingers. His hair is still the wild mess it has always been, and his cobalt eyes have not lost much of their intensity. "Did you not find him?" he asks me.  
  
"I found him." I set my bag to one side. Quatre leaves me to head towards a table where a coffee maker has been set up. He fills two mugs and extends one hand towards me. I move to accept it and stand with it cupped in both hands. I am relieved to feel the heat seeping through my skin; after my visit with Duo I have felt a cold knot in my chest. I am being sentimental and foolish, I suppose. "There is no way he can join us at this time; it is impossible. I will explain later." I do not feel like retelling the story of my visit right now. What I need is to push the hollow sound of Duo's laughter out of my mind, to forget momentarily about the pinched faces of the children and the way they ate as if there was no tomorrow. Quatre and I will send them supplies to make them more comfortable, but there is nothing else we can do at this time. We four are needed. If we do not stop this new terrorist chain, many people will lose their lives. This is most important.  
  
I cannot tell their opinions on Duo's absence like I could with Quatre. Heero gives a slight nod and reaches to tap another command in his computer one handedly. Trowa merely takes a swallow from his mug and returns to his reading. I wonder if I would have reacted as blandly if I had not been the one to find Duo. I wonder what they would feel if they had been there to see the way the children fled at my entrance to the kitchen, at seeing Duo in rags and with short hair.  
  
Damn. I am thinking about him still.  
  
"What do we know so far?" I ask, and sip at my steaming drink.  
  
"We have pinpointed the leaders down to three people," Heero answers, and images appear on his screen. Quatre and I move in closer to see. Heero taps the screen. "Martel Jeremy, Tseng Hu Li, and Yoroshi Touya."  
  
"Jeremy Martel?" Quatre repeats, frowning. "That name sounds familiar."  
  
"It should," Trowa answers.  
  
I recognize the name as well. "He's the president of BioStorm, isn't he?" I ask. Heero confirms it. I frown and take a long swallow from my mug. BioStorm is involved in this? That cannot be good. They are a powerful facility that researches diseases and genetics. BioTerrorism…What a deadly enemy.  
  
Heero's voice breaks through my grim thoughts. "We do not know anything for certain yet. It will take a bit of work to determine which party is guilty. Martel is the first target; if he is the one behind the chain, we will need to have that confirmed as quickly as possible. I will only need one other person."  
  
"I will go," Trowa volunteers, setting down his empty mug. He sets his paper aside, finished with his reading.  
  
Heero acknowledges Trowa with a slight nod and clears the screen when there is a knock on the door. Quatre tilts his head towards it. "Come in," he calls, and a servant enters.  
  
"Master Quatre, dinner is ready."  
  
"Thank you, Milea." Quatre offers her a smile. She curtsies and leaves. Quatre glances towards the rest of us. "Shall we?"  
  
*  
  
Trowa and Heero left this morning before I got up. They will be gone for several days on their mission. Until they get back, Quatre and I will have to occupy ourselves with other things, such as Duo. It has taken Quatre and I the better part of the morning to organize everything I think Duo will need. Because we are taking so many things, we are going to go in Quatre's personal shuttle. Rashid helps us load the crates into the storage area.  
  
The trip there goes quickly and smoothly. Quatre fills in the silence easily with small talk about the past and what we've been doing during the three years of absence from each other. I learn that he has been managing his father's estates successfully and still holds a firm friendship with Trowa. It is from him that I learn Trowa and Heero have both spent that time on L3, but Quatre does not know much of what either of them did during their stay. I answer his questions about myself, though there is not much to say. I spent my years on Earth, assisting at a martial arts school in China. It was an interesting stay. Quatre is fascinated with different cultures, and listens as I tell him about the customs of the Chinese people.  
  
Before we know it, we have arrived and are landing. Quatre stays with the shuttle while I retrieve a pull-cart to stack our crates on. One of the port workers lends a hand in transferring all of our packages, and Quatre gives him a generous tip for his trouble. We have to rent a large truck to hold them all. I drive, since I know the way. It had been a difficult task for Heero to locate Duo. The only way he'd managed to find him was by tracing his passport, but after following his trail to L2 there was nothing else. He and I had both spent some time on the phone with travel agents, looking for anyone that matched Duo's description. We had gotten lucky when Heero called a church that could positively identify him. They were the only ones who had remained in contact with him. It was from them that we managed to get his new address.   
  
Quatre goes quiet when we reach the outskirts of Philly. He rolls his window down and gazes out, watching the ruins we pass. Buildings have crumbled and sand has replaced all of the grass. It is a ghost city, and it has an eerie effect on both of us. I am relieved when we finally reach the shelter.  
  
Quatre looks up at it. "This?" he asks quietly.  
  
"Aa." I remove the key from the ignition and open my door, sliding out. Quatre follows me up to the door. It is bolted, like it was yesterday, but it takes only a moment to pick the lock. Briefly I wonder why Duo locks the door when there is no one else in this city.  
  
I step into the room I was in yesterday. It looks the same, complete with shimmering dust. "Duo," I call, starting towards the empty doorway. Quatre follows close behind me silently. We reach the doorway as Duo appears in it. Both Quatre and I stop mid-step, tensing in reaction to his sudden appearance before relaxing again.  
  
"Duo?" Quatre asks, trying to make out Duo's features in the gloom.  
  
"Quatre," Duo says in surprise. He ducks and suddenly light floods us as he turns on the oil lamp. He shoves one hand in his pocket as he rises, but not before I see that he had been holding an old gun.  
  
Who had he been expecting?  
  
"Duo, it's great to see you." Quatre steps past me to hug Duo tightly. Duo returns the gesture, and I can see his smile as he looks at me over Quatre's shoulder.  
  
"What a nice surprise," Duo says as he and Quatre release each other. Something creaks behind him and he glances in that direction. "It's all right," he calls softly. There is more creaking, and I see someone ducking away into another room. Duo turns back to us. "You frightened her when she heard the engine. We don't get many visitors."  
  
"I didn't think you got any," I say.  
  
Duo grimaces slightly. "Only now and then we have some crazy man show up trying to cause trouble. You'd think they would stay away from a condemned area."  
  
"Why, Duo?" Quatre asks, still gazing in the direction the child had been in. "Why would anyone condemn children?"  
  
Duo waves one hand in dismissal. "It's some political bull mixed with superstition," he answers vaguely. When Quatre glances towards him, he shakes his head. "It's too complicated. I don't feel like going into it. I'm too tired."  
  
Quatre decides not to press Duo. "We brought you some supplies," he says, gesturing over his shoulder. "Wufei put together a list of things he thought you might need: blankets, more food, water, first aid kits…" he trails off with a smile and shrug.  
  
This time I see a real smile on Duo's lips, not the sad half-there one I saw yesterday. There is gratitude in his eyes. "Thanks, you guys. It means a lot to us to know someone cares." He follows us out and we begin the task of once again unloading the crates. My arms are protesting the work; I am tired of lifting and moving these boxes. Duo hesitates inside, glancing back at us as we stand waiting. He shifts the crate he is holding and makes his decision. "The kitchen," he says.  
  
When we are finished moving them, Duo offers us some packets of juice that have been removed from rations. We accept them and sip at them. Duo idly smacks a bug with a piece of rubble.  
  
"Is it all right if we meet them?" Quatre asks.  
  
Duo pauses for only a moment. "I do not think that would be a good idea. They might be sleeping." He flicks the smashed bug. Some of its insides smears on the tip of his finger, staining it a dark color. He gazes at his finger for a long moment before shuddering and wiping the mess off. "So," he says, turning to face us. "What is new with the group?"  
  
*****  
  
I try to listen to Quatre as he tells me what they are investigating right now for the new terrorist group, but it is hard to keep myself focused. It has been a rough day so far. Jean gave in to the second stage of the sickness this morning and has been coughing violently and vomiting. I have been with him, trying to make him comfortable, as he is very miserable. To make things worse, Farrow is slipping further away. I almost lost him two hours ago when he choked on his own blood and stopped breathing.  
  
My heart is still beating a rapid tattoo from seeing the bug guts on my finger. Black fingers…I hide a shiver. So far I have been extremely lucky in avoiding the disease that is slowly but surely taking the poor children away from me.  
  
I will not let my friends get sick. I do not know if this thing is contagious. I will not risk having them drop to it. It is hard enough to let go of these kids I met just several months ago. Imagining Quatre and Wufei in Farrow's place is enough to make my stomach turn. I taste bile and shudder at the memory of Farrow hacking blood up violently, feeling it spatter against me as I fought to keep him alive.  
  
"Duo."  
  
Someone touches me and I jump as if I have been shot, recoiling away from the contact. I realize then that it is just Wufei. He and Quatre are watching me. I wrap my arms around myself as if hugging myself, wanting nothing more than to melt away. I am so tired of seeing these children die. I am so tired of staying awake long into the night, wondering which one will cave in next as I listen to Farrow's hacking cough, wondering if I am the next one in line.  
  
And what if I contract it? What if I have already received the sickness? What if the others get sick because of me? What if I have already spread it to Quatre from my hug? Dread and despair eats a dark hole in my heart and I feel dizzy.  
  
"Duo, what is wrong?" Quatre asks, brows knitted with worry.  
  
"Sorry," I manage to get out. I feel like I am falling apart piece by piece. I want to grab onto Quatre and never let go. I want to feel warm, instead of cold and hollow. The months I have spent in this shelter have torn away at my soul than the war did. "I did not sleep well last night. Farrow has caught a fever."  
  
"Here," Quatre says helpfully, moving to open a crate. He rummages through it. "We brought medicine." He extends a plastic bag full of medicine bottles with a bright, reassuring smile.  
  
I want to laugh. I want to cry.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
I'm going to lose it. I can feel myself shaking. I can feel my eyes burning. I will not break down in here. I will not cry in front of my comrades. I did not cry for those innocents killed in the war. I will not cry now.  
  
I snatch the bag away and retreat towards the door, clutching it to my chest. I must protect them. I must keep them away.  
  
Oh, but I am so tired of being alone. One part of me, an ugly and selfish part, wants them to stay so I can enjoy the luxury and release their company brings. They are an escape from the hell this shelter quickly turned into, an escape from my room where Farrow lies at death's door and Jean is throwing his insides up with only two weeks left to live. I hate that part of me because it is that part of me that is aching the most.  
  
"Duo." Aja appears in the doorway, eyes wide. "He's doing it again."  
  
I am grateful for the reason to leave the room, even if it is for such a morbid thing. "Stay here- please!" I say as I run out when I see Quatre move as if to follow me. I know he wants to help with whatever is going on, but I cannot afford for him to see this. They respect my wishes and stay behind. Aja follows me to my room. Farrow is jerking violently on his bed, grabbing wildly at his sheets as he tries to breathe. I drop to my knees beside the low bed, ignoring the pain as my knees make contact with the hard floor. Jean is watching Farrow with wide eyes from his place on the other side of the room. Eaton is huddled in another corner, crying softly. I push them from my mind as I pull Farrow from the bed to my lap. I roll him over so he is facing the ground, trying to ignore the way he grabs desperately at my clothes in a plea for help. I raise a fist a few inches from his back and bring it down, striking between his rib cages. He gags in response and I feel the warmth of blood spattering on my knees.  
  
"Stay with me, Farrow," I plead, striking him again. The exhale I am forcing on him is powerful enough that his body reacts instantly by trying to inhale. I hear him choke on his breath as his mouth floods with blood and he coughs it out again, gasping for air. He is breathing again. I sag with relief and hug Farrow against me gingerly, feeling his ribs digging into my chest. He is crying now, and the tears mingle with his blood on his cheeks and my shirt. His bony arms are wrapped around me tightly and I rock him, whispering soothing nothings as hot relief floods my veins. He is all right.  
  
I cannot go out to Wufei and Quatre again when I look like this. I look towards Aja, who is crying silently as she watches me. "Aja, will you go thank my friends and ask them to leave? Tell them this is not a good time for them to be here. Do not approach them, and do not tell them what has happened, all right?"  
  
She nods and disappears. I look down at Farrow. He has exhausted himself and is sleeping again. I gingerly lay him back in bed, rolling him over so he laying in his stomach. I tuck the blankets around him once more, trying to ignore the sticky wetness of my clothes. Eaton grabs me from behind, wailing against my back. I pry her off and lift her in my arms, hugging her tightly. She sobs uncontrollably against my neck. I rub her back gently.  
  
"It's all right; it's going to be okay," I murmur by her ear, over and over as if somehow by saying it, it will be true. I am not lying; I never lie. I am just not telling the complete truth. Everything will be okay in the end; their fears and their pain will end one day. How they will end was something I do not want to think or talk about.  
  
Aja returns to tell me my friends have left. I feel a brief moment of happiness. They are gone; they are safe. She then goes to sit by Jean, hugging him to offer him comfort. Time continues to pass in a crawl as it has for the past several months.  
  
We are together, yet we are alone.  
  
*****  
  
I can see that our visit to Duo bothers Quatre as much as it does me. He has been a little distant the last few days and is often seen gazing out of a window. I know he worries for our partner, but neither of us know what to do. It is obvious to us both that he has placed a wall between us. His actions that day were guarded and reserved enough to show us that he distanced himself from us. I still pause, though, when I remember the almost hysterical look in his eye when I touched him. After that contact he had gone steadily downhill, withdrawing in on himself and getting a dark, skittish look to his eyes.  
  
Duo was afraid of something. Of us? The idea bothers me although I do not think it should. I had not allowed myself to get very close to any of my team during the previous wars, especially not someone with as big a mouth as Duo. He had been a source of both amusement and annoyance. Why should this bother me?  
  
There is a knock and both Quatre and I look up from where we are playing chess to pass the time. Rashid is standing in the doorway. "Your comrades have returned," he announces, and steps aside to let Heero and Trowa through. He closes the door behind them to give the four of us some privacy.  
  
Quatre rises, offering a smile in greeting. "Welcome back," he says warmly.  
  
They both give faint nods. I can tell from the grim edge to their eyes that their news is not good. Quatre comes to the same conclusion and hesitates before motioning for us to move to the table at the other end of the room. When we have seated ourselves, Heero speaks.  
  
"Martel is in on the terrorist ring," he says, and I sigh mentally. We have all been hoping to avoid BioTerrorism. "His technicians have been devising a type of plague to set loose." He sets down a folder he has been carrying and flips it open. There are several graphics and a lengthy paragraph full of element symbols. "It has already been completed and is in the testing stages. The only reason it has not been unleashed yet is because they have not completed making an antidote, which they will offer in exchange for rule."  
  
Quatre pales and his lips thin to a hard line at the news. I wonder, too, about what kind of beasts could come up with such a thing. Who can play so callously with human life?  
  
Heero flips the page. "There were seven test subjects that were exposed to it. In order for them to make an antidote, they need to extract blood from the subjects during each stage of the disease. The trick is that the subjects have to be alive."  
  
"So it would not work with blood from a dead subject?" Quatre asks, frowning slightly at that.  
  
Heero gives a slight nod. "We have one option here and a very small time window to move in. The seven test subjects were lost somehow. There were no records on how they lost track of them, but Martel does not have them in his possession anymore." Seven people carrying a plague are loose? Something inside of me twitches at the idea of that spreading. Heero continues. "We managed to secure the profiles of each of the seven tested. They are very young, perhaps because their immune system is weaker than an adults; that way infection could be assured."  
  
He begins to spread papers out on the table. "The first symptoms of the virus is blackening of the fingers," he says, reading from the paper with the graphics. "That is as much as they know. It is as far as they got before their subjects vanished."  
  
"This could blow up in all of our faces," Quatre says, dismayed.  
  
"We have to get to the children before they do," Heero tells us.  
  
It hits me then what he is saying we must do. To gain more time, we have to keep Martel from coming up with an antidote. To do that we must kill the test subjects- children! The thought makes me sick.  
  
My eyes drop to the profile closest to me. It is the smiling picture of a young boy. He is missing his two front teeth. The paper says he is seven years old. I cannot tear my eyes from his face. He looks so happy in the picture. He looks so young and innocent. Who could give a child like him such a horrible thing? It is unforgivable.  
  
Trowa picks up the profile near him and begins to read it aloud. "Subject 6. Date: 9/5. Time: 3:15 pm. Age: 13. Name: Aja Deeley." He puts it down and picks up another to read, but I do not hear him. Everything has gone silent; I cannot hear anything.  
  
Slowly I look up from my profile to stare at Trowa. There is a sudden, tight feeling in my chest. Trowa pauses, noticing my attention, and looks towards me. Heero's attention also shifts to me. I extend my hand. "Where?" I do not know if I think it or say it; I cannot hear it. Trowa glances down and passes the profile of the sixth subject to Heero, who hands it to me.  
  
I look upon the picture with unwilling eyes, and sound returns to me with a sharp stab of pain.  
  
"What is wrong, Wufei?" Quatre asks, concerned.  
  
A smiling face looks up at me from the page, a young girl's face that is all too recognizable. I saw her just four days ago with Quatre, in a broken down shelter in the middle of a ruined city. I had seen her for the first time the day before that. I stand up, the sudden movement knocking my chair over, and lean across the table to smack the paper down in front of Quatre. He picks it up, glancing it over, and freezes when he sees the picture. He mouths something silently, eyes widening in anguished realization.  
  
He looks up, turning frightened eyes on Trowa. "We've seen this girl," he says. "She's one of the children Duo is looking after!"  
  
The air suddenly seems colder as the news hits our teammates. Trowa's eyes narrow slightly and Heero tenses. After several moments of a dark silence, Heero speaks again. "What?" he demands quietly.  
  
"Several children of Lambox were condemned a while ago," I explain, and all eyes are back on me. "Duo was there at the time and chose to go with them. That is why he could not come join us. He is the only one who will look after the group. He's been looking after them for a while now."  
  
Heero seems to be at a loss for words. Trowa is not, however, and utters a soft "Damn."  
  
*  
  
Heero does not bother with the lock when we arrive at the shelter. He just deals it a sharp kick that sends it banging inward. I follow him, alarm eating away at me. When we arrived at the shelter we were treated to the sight of blood stained sand. Trowa and Quatre are right behind me. I slip past Heero to take the lead. "Duo," I call, moving towards the doorway. This time, no one pops out of the shadows to greet us. I duck into the hall and peer into the kitchen, the closest room. It is empty and dark.  
  
The second room is the same, as is the third. They are not here.  
  
There are emergency stick lights in the trunk of our rental car. We use them as we conduct a thorough search to try and get an idea as to what happened here during the few days since Quatre and my visit. I rummage through the kitchen, trying to ignore the bugs that wander over the walls and floors. The crates are gone. The dishes are all broken and are resting in the corner. There is blood on some of the pieces. I step towards the pile, toeing it with my boot. It seems to me that the insects have collected wherever there is a blood stain.  
  
I pause, watching them crawl across the cabinet. If they are blood-eaters, why are there so many? Duo himself cursed them and said that they were everywhere. For there to be this many, there has to be a lot of blood to keep them alive.  
  
I stoop to peer through the hole in the back of the kitchen, wondering briefly what is on the other side. The children used it as an entrance and exit during my first stay. I bite the light stick and crawl through. I go slowly, picking my way carefully. Wood surrounds me from where another part of this building collapsed. I feel insects run across my hands and my skin crawls. The air does not seem as musty here as it did in the kitchen, so I suspect outside air gets in somehow.  
  
There is a collapsed support beam in front of me that presents an obstacle. I am already the biggest I can be to get through here. The children that used this hole were about ten years younger than I am. I back up enough to lay flat on my stomach, hoping that no bugs will crawl under my shirt, and take the light stick in hand to extend beyond the beam. I am given a view of Trowa's legs. He crouches when he sees the green glow from my stick, his face glowing eerily from his own stick.  
  
"Find anything?" he asks.  
  
"Nothing but this tunnel. It runs from the kitchen to here. You?"  
  
"Only a lot of insects." He half turns and holds out his arm so I can see by his light. The far wall is almost black with bugs. "They have roosted over there."  
  
I think this over. "Is anything in that corner?"  
  
"Dirt and broken wood."  
  
"Those bugs eat blood." I shift to a more comfortable position. "There has to be a reason for the concentrated bunch." With that I begin to back up, making my way towards the kitchen. Quatre is there when I wriggle out, and he helps me to my feet. I dust off my pants and beckon for him to follow. We make our way to Trowa's room. He is using his shoe to chase away the bugs from one corner. When enough of them are gone, he and I crouch beside the spot. I prod the wood and it rocks under my finger.  
  
"Is it loose?" Quatre asks.  
  
I study it, looking from one end to the other. These planks no longer have their nails in them. I slide my fingers between two and curl the tips around the edges of the wood, then lift. It comes up easily to reveal dirt. Trowa and I clear away the rest of the wood, but there is nothing there. Trowa leans back on his heels, looking around. He reaches out, touching the wall. "Here."  
  
I look, and he casts light on the spot. There are letters carved into the wood, but I cannot make them out. "What does it say?"  
  
"Here lies Jason Bents."  
  
"That is the name from the profile I read," Quatre says softly, kneeling beside us. His eyes are on the dirt. I gaze at him with it, understanding the corner now. It is a grave. That is why the insects were here in such numbers.  
  
Trowa continues along the wall towards the other corner. "Here lies Yortsin Borz. Here lies Ali Omar. Here lies Farrow Goldsworth. Here lies Jean Broceant." He rises slowly, eyes still on the wall. "Five graves."  
  
"What is that?"  
  
I almost jump at Heero's voice. Quatre does, and his hand clutches my sleeve. I look over my shoulder. Heero is standing in the doorway. His eyes are not on the floor but are pointed towards the ceiling. The three of us look up and Quatre and I stand. Something is glittering in response to our glow sticks. Trowa is the tallest of us three. He reaches up, taking the object in his fingers and turning it so he can see. He pauses, then slowly releases it to dangle again.  
  
"It is Duo's cross necklace."  
  
I want nothing more to be away from this room.  
  
We stand in silence, gazing at the graves. Five of the seven test subjects are dead. Where are the other two? Where is Duo? Did Martel get to them?  
  
"Can we go outside to think?" Quatre finally asks, voice subdued. "The air is so thick inside this shelter."  
  
I think Trowa and Heero are as ready to be out of here as I am, for they nod in response to Quatre's plea. We make our way out of the shelter to stand in the warm sunlight, breathing in air that is not stained with mildew and the mustiness of decay. The warmth does not seem to touch my core, however, and I feel like shivering.  
  
What had it been like for Duo to be in there for months? I had known it had been difficult to be stranded from society with a handful of children. Knowing now that those children had been plague test subjects made such a sacrifice almost unthinkable. Duo had been there as they succumbed to the virus and as five had died. Any normal person would have gone crazy. It was no wonder now that he had been so off-balance and withdrawn.  
  
"Why didn't he tell us?" Quatre asks quietly. "We could have helped?"  
  
"How?" I ask. Duo deliberately kept us out of range of the children. He had cut the two visits short and had not allowed Quatre to see the children. He had been protecting us, I now see. The realization does not do anything to help the nausea rolling inside of me.  
  
We fall prey to our own thoughts and stand in silence. The breeze dies down until it is almost eerily quiet. Guilt tinges my mind. I knew there was something wrong with Duo. I should have pushed ahead and found out what it was. There was nothing I could have done to save the children he was watching, but at least he would not have had to watch them alone.  
  
"Good morning." We turn, eyes seeking the speaker. I know I am not the only one who feels relieved to see Duo. He is leaning against the corner of the wall, a gun in his hand. "You really should not come here with an unidentifyable car. It frightens the children."  
  
"Duo," Quatre says, voice warm with relief. "We were afraid you had been taken."  
  
"Taken? No, moved. The shelter proved to be unsafe." His voice sounds even more weary than it has before. He tucks his gun away and offers a faint smile in greeting as he approaches us. "Now there's all of you here. You haven't changed much at all," he observes, looking from Heero to Trowa.  
  
"Where are the children?" Heero asks.  
  
Duo frowns. "They are elsewhere."  
  
"We have to see them," I tell him.  
  
"That is not a wise idea."  
  
"Neither is letting them live," Heero replies flatly, and Duo's eyes jump to him, surprised. "There are two left, correct?"  
  
There is a flicker of pain in Duo's eyes. "How did you know?"  
  
"Did you originally take in seven children?" Quatre asks.  
  
Duo seems to be uneasy now. "I did."  
  
"The seven children you have been taking care of were test subjects for a man named Jeremy Martel," Quatre explains. "He is the one behind the new terrorist group that we are planning to strike against. This is bio-warfare we are dealing with. His scientists have engineered a virus that will be used to take over."  
  
Duo takes a step back, sending a sharp glance in my direction. I gaze back. "The only thing he is waiting for is an antidote," I tell him. "For that he needs his subjects to be alive and in any different stages of the sickness. With their blood he can make the antidote that will give him power."  
  
Duo seems to see where this conversation is going and begins to shake his head, retreating. Heero grabs him by his elbow. "We cannot allow Martel to get his hands on the children, Duo. We have no choice."  
  
Duo frees himself with a vicious jerk. "No."  
  
"If he makes an antidote there will be no stopping him," Quatre says, his tone almost pleading as he tries to make Duo see reason.  
  
"We brought Robatrain with us," I tell Duo. "They will not feel anything. It will be like going to sleep."  
  
*****  
  
I cannot believe I am standing here, listening to my friends tell me to inject my two remaining charges to kill them. I do not want to believe them. I do not want to think about what they have told me about Jeremy Martel. I feel sick. Someone purposefully gave this disease to them. I have seen firsthand how it tears away at them. I have witnessed five deaths, and Eaton's draws close.  
  
A mercy death…With Robatrain they would not have to suffer like the others had. For that reason alone I would accept the shots.  
  
And yet the thought of killing them after they have fought so long to stay alive makes me feel hollow inside. I stare at Heero without really seeing him, anguish twisting itself through my bones. My teammates wait in silence for me to come up with a response, but there is nothing I can say.  
  
I am shaking again.  
  
"Give it to me." It comes out as a whisper.  
  
Heero pulls a small pouch from his pocket and holds it out. I unsnap it and unroll it. There are seven syringes full of a clear liquid. My hands are trembling almost too violently to remove two shots. I offer the pouch back.  
  
Someone…  
  
I turn away from them. They have enough respect not to follow me as I head towards a nearby building. I had to move Eaton and Aja there when some drunk psychos from Lambox attacked us two nights ago. I gaze at the two harmless looking shots in my hand, the shots that will put both Eaton and Aja to a permanent sleep.  
  
Someone purposefully did this.  
  
Aja looks up when I enter the room where she and Eaton are. Poor Eaton is coughing badly. She looks miserable. Aja is still hanging on strong. She was the oldest of the seven, so she seems to have more luck battling the virus that is trying to eat her from the inside out. I kneel beside Eaton's bed, reaching out with my free hand to smooth her sweaty bangs from her face. "How are you doing, Eaton?" I ask, managing to force an optimistic tone and smile.  
  
"My throat hurts."  
  
"Look," I say, showing her the shots. "My friends brought medicine. It will make the pain go away. Wasn't that nice of them?"  
  
I feel sick.  
  
"It will make me better?" she asks hopefully.  
  
"You'll feel a lot better," I answer. There won't be any pain at all.  
  
I think I'm going to throw up.  
  
She allows me to unroll her sleeve. I uncap one of the syringes and squeeze the first drop out, watching it glisten on the tip of the needle. Aja is watching silently, eyes dark. I try to keep my hand from shaking as I lower the needle to inject it into the soft flesh of Eaton's arm. She whimpers in response to the prick. I slide the empty syringe free and set it aside, then press a kiss to Eaton's forehead. Robatrain is powerful; it will work in just moments.  
  
"I feel it," Eaton tells me. "I feel heavy."  
  
"It will make you sleepy," I tell her. "Sleep is a good medicine."  
  
She offers me a smile as her eyelids droop. "I'm happy."  
  
Something inside of me shatters when her eyes close.  
  
"That's not really medicine, is it?" Aja asks. I can hear the disbelief in her eyes.  
  
I study her silently. "It is a drug," I tell her.  
  
She looks back at Eaton. "She isn't breathing," she announces quietly.  
  
I run, I hide, but I never lie. Half truths would work with any of the other six. Aja has matured all too quickly since she saw the virus's effect on the first child to die. I feel that she deserves the truth. "There is no cure for what you have," I tell her, tucking the blankets close around Eaton's still body. "There is no way to stop it, no way to slow it. There is only one escape." I hold up the remaining syringe. I feel detached from my body as I show it to her. "I do not want you two to suffer like the other five did. This is the solution my friends have given me. You feel as if you're going to sleep."  
  
"And instead you're dying."  
  
I cannot nod, but she does not need my confirmation. She is staring at Eaton, and suddenly she seems very old. She looks up at me and begins to roll up my sleeve. "I do not want to die…like they did. I saw their pain."  
  
She is brave. I feel my throat close as I gaze at her, wishing I can say something to her. Perhaps I can thank her for helping me through these trying months. Perhaps I can commend her bravery. Perhaps…But I can say nothing. All I can do is lean forward to gather her into a tight hug. Her fingers dig into my back. She is afraid. She does not want to die.  
  
I release her slowly and she draws back. Her eyes are locked on my face as I uncap the second shot and inject her. As soon as it is empty, I set it aside and draw her into my arms again. I rock her slowly, long after she has died.  
  
Someone did this purposefully.  
  
I will pay them back for every sleepless night, for every blood-filled cough, for every tear and every scream.  
  
The god of death is back.  
  
To Be Continued...  
(if no one hates it ^^)  
Author's Notes: Well, this part turned out to have a little more angst than I thought...^^;; The following parts are not supposed to be angsty. This is my first Gundam Wing fanfiction, so I would greatly appreciate any comments. Thanks! 


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